by Kim Izzo
Maxwell managed to keep up and together they reached the port side where they were greeted with mayhem but they shoved their way through. Everywhere passengers were fighting for room on the doomed lifeboats. Somewhere a pistol was fired. Shouts and cries of despair rippled along the deck. Somehow through the havoc he heard his name. Edward searched and found Charles Frohman standing with Rita Jolivet, George Vernon and a man he didn’t recognize. Frohman was smoking a cigar but wasn’t wearing a lifebelt.
“Edward,” he repeated, and waved calmly like it was during intermission at the theatre.
Edward lurched forward gasping. “Sydney and Brooke . . . They are lost.”
Rita shrieked. “How?”
“They were in a lifeboat on the starboard side. It was nearly in the water but it overturned,” he said, and grasped the rail beside Frohman for balance.
“Were they wearing lifebelts?” Frohman asked.
Edward was struck by his calmness. “Yes,” he answered, Maxwell at his side.
“Then perhaps they were saved,” Rita said encouragingly.
“You’re not wearing a lifebelt,” Edward said to Frohman.
He smiled. “I gave it to a lady.” Frohman puffed his cigar and watched the commotion before him. “I didn’t think they would do it.”
“Damn Germans,” Vernon said.
Edward then saw the cane in Frohman’s hand. He had great difficulty walking. Edward couldn’t imagine how he would manage in the water on his own.
“Do you want me to find you another lifebelt?” Edward offered.
Frohman shook his head. “The four of us have agreed to hold hands and stay together.”
“The lifeboats aren’t safe, you said so yourself,” Rita said. Then seeing Edward’s crushed expression she added, “I’m sure they survived.”
“There are hardly any lifeboats,” Edward pointed out desperately. “I believe fewer than six were launched.”
There was nothing left to say and they stood there, balancing like a high-wire act as moment by moment the Lusitania shuddered and dived farther beneath the ocean. Frohman exhaled a ring of cigar smoke and took in a final sweep of the hundreds of people surrounding him.
“‘Why fear death? To die will be an awfully big adventure,’” Charles said wistfully.
Edward recognized Frohman’s words from Peter Pan. Just then the ship lurched as though in agony and a collective shriek spread through the passengers struggling on deck. Edward looked up just in time to see a cliff of green water surge toward the little group and then there was darkness.
Sydney
She was pushed down farther and farther into the cold water. Sydney forced her eyes open and saw with a fright the upturned lifeboat above her and the bodies of several passengers dead from its impact. Not knowing how to swim she kicked back with her legs and reached toward the boat with all her might. She could see space between the boat and the water where air would be and she kept kicking and kicking but something clung to her ankle. Barely able to hold her breath for much longer she looked down through the dark green water and saw Sarah hanging on to her. She couldn’t tell if the girl was alive or dead so she continued to kick and squirm until by some miracle she grasped the edge of the lifeboat and pulled herself underneath it where there was a few inches of air. She hung there gasping as the weight threatened to pull her down again. It was heavy, motionless, and that was when she knew that Sarah was dead. Horrified she tightened her grip on one of the lifeboat seats and managed to lift her arm over it. The boat began to sway and she prayed for it to settle. But loud banging echoed around her and she realized that some of the other passengers had survived the fall and were clinging to the outside of the lifeboat, unaware that she was beneath it.
With all her might she kicked her left leg and with her right foot tried to kick off poor Sarah. She couldn’t fathom how the dead girl’s grip could be so strong. She took a deep breath and shoved her head back under the water and saw that the girl’s lifebelt was partially undone and its strap was twisted around her ankle. She came back up for air. Took three deep breaths, terrified to go back below the surface. She tightened her grip on the lifeboat seat with one arm, then with a final inhale dived below and fumbled with her hand, the sea water stinging her eyes, until at last she freed her ankle. She caught a last glimpse of Sarah. The girl’s eyes were wide open in shock, her mouth agape in an eternal scream as her small body sank into blackness. Sydney had no time to think more of the girl for she felt legs kicking around the lifeboat as other passengers clung desperately and tried to right it. Staying beneath the lifeboat wasn’t an option. There would be a tremendous undertow when the ship sank and she didn’t want to be pulled down with it. She took another breath and dived beneath again, only this time she held on to the edge of the lifeboat and pulled herself to the outside. She came up for air and found herself in a sea of debris and bodies, some living, others drowning and even more already dead. The water had turned an awful colour. The cries were pitiful. It was as though the damned had gathered their voices into a single scream. The water was mercilessly cold and its colour had become tinged with red, the blood of the victims.
Sydney was elated to see Walter in the distance, struggling not to be sucked under with the ship. She called out to him but he couldn’t hear her. All she could do was watch as he treaded water. There was a sudden thrashing near him. She looked on as he spun around to find a small child struggling in the water. It was a little boy, practically a toddler. Walter swam over and grabbed him. The child was weak and at first fought against him but seemed to calm down when he realized he could float by clinging to Walter.
“Help!” came another child’s voice.
Sydney looked on in amazement as Walter headed toward a boy about seven years of age without a lifebelt trying to stay afloat. The toddler grasped Walter’s back as he swam to the other boy and lifted his head above the water. The older boy was wide-eyed with terror and Sydney could tell even from a distance that the child was half-drowned already.
“Walter,” she called again. This time he heard her.
“You hold on to that lifeboat,” he instructed.
“Can you make it to me?” she asked him.
“We don’t got room!” shouted one of the male passengers who clung to the lifeboat.
“Of course we do; they’re children,” Sydney snapped.
When she turned back she saw the older boy gasping and Walter lose his grip on him. The child disappeared below the surface. Walter desperately thrust his hands into the water searching. Then the boy’s coat appeared on the surface and Walter grabbed at it and yanked him up again. But as he did the toddler fell off Walter’s back and splashed into the sea.
“No!” Walter shouted and, hanging on to the older child, he took a deep breath and shoved his head below. He came back up but the toddler was gone. Sydney began to cry, for the children and for Walter’s horror at losing them both. She wanted him to swim to her, to help her as he had tried to help the children but Walter was carried swiftly out of earshot by the power of the current.
She soon saw why. The bow of the ship—her bow—was entirely submerged and the stern was lifted out of the water, exposing its enormous propellers. The metal gleamed golden in the sunlight. It was beautiful yet sickening.
High up in the sky men and women were clinging to whatever parts of the ship they could grab while many were flung like rag dolls into the sea screaming and smashing into parts of the wreckage that was strewn across the water.
“There she goes. The final wave,” a man said who was clinging for dear life to the same lifeboat as Sydney. “Those poor souls still on her. They’ll be with God in a few minutes.”
“Better swim out,” said another man. “Else you’ll be pulled under with the Lusy.” He shoved off from the lifeboat and swam away just as the great ship took a final plunge beneath the surface. One lifeboat filled with survivors was still attached by ropes to the ship and as she slipped below the surface the small boa
t was dragged under. Then the Lusitania was gone but for her aerials that swung out in a final wave. Sydney saw the wires ensnare one of the lifeboats and threaten to pull it under but thankfully the wires snapped at the last second and the lifeboat was rowed away.
Then from deep below an underwater explosion erupted sending more debris and body parts flying up from the bottom of the ocean floor. Huge waves followed and scattered the debris field across the surface of the water. The power of the explosion tore Sydney away from the lifeboat and she smashed up against a deck chair. She grabbed on to it with all her strength. When she looked up she saw that the lifeboat she had been clinging to moments before was being dragged under, men and women tearing at the wood and clawing at the water to save themselves but it was futile.
The deck chair floated well enough but she didn’t trust it to hold her weight so she let it bob along beside her while she tried to formulate a plan. It was difficult to think clearly when all around her were hundreds of people clinging to life and to thin scraps of refuse. Others floated by dead. What got her the most were the infants and children—too many to count—their angelic faces staring up at the blue sky. Sydney found it cruel that nature would provide such a glorious day for a tragedy. It should be raining with giant thunderclaps and lightning bolts. Not blue skies filled with sunlight. Perhaps worst of all was the sight of land so near to them. They were so close to Ireland. Surely someone on land had seen? The ship’s Marconi officers must have sent an SOS? Where was the naval escort?
Sydney searched the water for Brooke but couldn’t find her. “Have you seen my sister?” she asked several others who were in the water. They stared back at her with vacant eyes.
“No idea who your sister is,” one woman groaned.
“Brooke Sinclair,” Sydney said hopefully. Then realized that these people had no idea who she or her sister was.
A few feet from her two men were fighting over an oar to stay afloat. One of the men began to beat the other until a woman nearby chastised them.
“He’s half-dead already,” the man who was giving the beating said.
“We’ll all be dead if we don’t help each other,” the woman snapped.
Sydney tried to heave herself onto the deck chair before someone else stole it from her. It was no use. Each attempt resulted in her falling off the other side. It was on closer examination that she saw the chair was broken in half. It would never hold the weight of an adult. She scanned the area and counted only six lifeboats on the water. Most of them weren’t even full. A few of the collapsibles had drifted out to sea and people were fighting tooth and nail to get onto them.
“Won’t they come rescue us?” Sydney asked.
“Who’s going to do that, luv?” the woman said. “The Germans?”
“The Royal Navy of course,” she answered. “They must know about the sinking by now.”
“Aye,” said a man. “Let’s hope it’s soon.”
She was freezing. She knew she had to get out of the water to survive. A large flat piece of board, about six inches thick and around four-by-six feet in size floated by. It looked strong. She had to try. Had to take a chance. With her strength fading Sydney reached out but missed it. She would have to let go of the deck chair in order to grab the board. The thought terrified her. The lifebelt that Alfred had so expertly tied on would hold her up. That was its sole purpose. She had to believe. With a deep breath, summoning all her strength, she kicked away from the deck chair and just managed to grab hold of the wood. Her legs, submerged for so long now, were near frozen. It was all she could do to will them to work and swing herself on top of the board. Somehow she did it. She collapsed on top. She lay there panting from exhaustion but thankful to be out of the frigid sea. Where was her sister? Where was Edward? Alfred? Walter? She started sobbing pitifully but her cries were lost amongst the hundreds of others who were crying out in anguish.
Edward
There were no lifeboats within reach as Edward treaded water. The sea was thick with bodies, alive and dead. He had lost sight of Frohman and the others. Even Maxwell had vanished. The cold water was consuming the life from him but he was determined to swim his way through the debris field searching for Sydney and Brooke.
It was a German submarine that had sunk the Lusitania but Edward felt it was his fault. Wasn’t he the reason the Sinclair sisters were on board to begin with? Didn’t that make him to blame? He was responsible for their fate. He clung to the hope that they were in a lifeboat by now. But if they weren’t, both had on lifebelts so they should be afloat and alive.
There were too many women amongst the bodies. He shoved his way through the mass of people struggling for breath. Too often he’d spot a shock of blond hair and swim over only to find the woman a stranger. Brooke was wearing yellow but she’d be soaked through and the colour wouldn’t be as bright. Remarkably he couldn’t recall Sydney’s garments; he’d been too busy looking into her eyes to notice her dress.
The Lusitania’s distinctive four funnels were in the water and he watched as several people were sucked inside them. Edward imagined they were dead, smothered by the coal and steam but to his amazement seconds later the funnels spewed them back out again. One of them smashed into the water near him, covered entirely in black soot. The man began to swim for his life to get as far away from the ship as he could.
“You! Come here, man!”
Edward turned in the water and saw an older fellow, not wearing a lifebelt, one arm clasped to a piece of debris, waving at him. Did he know him? Edward swam over; each stroke took more effort than the last and his legs were becoming numb.
“Do you need help?” Edward asked. When he got closer he could see that the man’s arm clinging to the debris was twisted at a horrible angle and bone jutted through the skin.
“I need you to keep me afloat!” The man flung himself on top of Edward. They struggled as the man, driven mad with fear, kept trying to use Edward as a human raft.
“I can’t keep us above water,” Edward gasped. The two men thrashed about violently. He felt the man’s legs kicking at him beneath the water as he strained to pull himself atop Edward’s shoulders in a piggyback. He was kneed in the stomach and kicked in the shins. He cried out in pain with each blow struck.
“I don’t want to die!” the man screamed, and began to beat Edward with his good arm. The blows rained down on Edward’s head over and over and, too weak to fend off his assailant, he lost consciousness.
Isabel
Isabel picked at her sandwich. The girl who had brought tea was new and smelled of talc. Like a baby. While still employed at the Admiralty, Mildred had not set foot inside Room 40 since that day she’d slammed the tray down on Isabel’s desk. Henry, however, did finally surface. Judging by his appearance he’d gone home to change and rest. He was bright-eyed and in clean clothes. Isabel sniffed her disapproval. She would take her cues only from Denniston. She’d leave when he did and not before.
“Get a load of him,” she whispered to Dorothy. “It must be nice to not have a care in the world and go home for a bath.”
“Oh stop,” Dorothy chided her. “He’s just a kid.”
“Humph!” Isabel grunted. She was about to make a sarcastic remark when Captain Hall entered the room, Commander Hope on his heels.
Captain Hall came into Room 40 at least twice a day so his presence was not unusual. But his expression and stiff posture indicated this was not a routine visit.
“Gentlemen,” he began, then seeing the women at their posts hastily added, “and ladies. We have received a telegram from the wireless station at Galley Head, at 2:20. It reads: Lusitania S.E. 10 miles sinking bow first apparently attacked by submarine.”
Isabel gasped. Schwieger had done it. He had his greatest triumph, his largest trophy. She felt a hand on her arm. She looked down expecting to see Dorothy’s hand only to find Henry beside her. They looked into each other’s eyes. He had to be thinking what she was. The Admiralty had let this happen. The ship had bee
n sacrificed for the war effort. But she couldn’t speak; she was in shock.
“How long does she have?” someone asked.
“Titanic stayed afloat a couple of hours,” Curtis offered hopefully.
“There’s a difference between hitting an iceberg and being torpedoed,” Rotter countered.
Before anyone else could speak the door flew open and a young man rushed in and handed two more messages to Captain Hall. He read them at once then looked around at the men and women of Room 40 who had been tracking the U-boats and the ship traffic for months. It was because of them that the Admiralty knew so much about the enemy’s movements. Everyone in the room was aware of the threat to the Lusitania. There would be hell to pay.
“At 2:25 the wireless station at Queenstown sent us the following: Lusitania torpedoed reported sinking 10 miles s. of Kinsale. All available tugs and small craft being sent to her assistance. Aberdeen, Pembroke, Bungrana, Devonport, Liverpool informed,” Captain Hall said. Rotter attempted to speak but a lifting of Hall’s hand stopped him. There was more. “At 2:26 the Marconi operators aboard the Lusitania sent out an SOS. We think we are off Kinsale. Late position 10 miles off Kinsale come at once big list later please come with all haste.”
The men and women looked at each other in disbelief. Isabel didn’t know what to do. Violet began to cry and Dorothy put her arms around her to comfort her. Captain Hall continued to stare at the telegrams. Denniston’s jaw jutted out sternly. Commander Hope leaned over the table laden with transcripts. It was odd to see even the most powerful men at a loss for words.
